


Bad Days and Black Clouds

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Days, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Memories, POV Michael Guerin, Past Child Abuse, Sad Michael Guerin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Michael is having one of those days when everything seems bleak. It's a good thing he has a loving husband to cheer him up, then, isn't it?
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 31
Kudos: 94





	Bad Days and Black Clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lieselfh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieselfh/gifts).

> Hello! This is an impromptu reverse prompt with my beautiful friend [Liesel](https://lieselfh.tumblr.com/); enjoy!
> 
> Art is embedded at the end; go show lots and lots of love ❤️

Sometimes, for no good reason at all, Michael wishes the world would just stop turning. Just for a minute, just for a moment; just enough to bring him a little calm.

It's not the same feeling as when he pulls the comforter up over his head and a warm body presses up behind him whispering good morning and suggesting taking another five minutes.

It's nothing like the stillness in his thoughts that playing the guitar will bring.

It's something else he needs, like there is a piece missing in his soul that he is aching to fill, and doesn't have the means to make it whole. Alex describes the feeling as hollow, a bottomless well of nothingness that suddenly refills as the mood lifts. Alex would know, because Alex understands it. Alex gets the feeling—and _him_—like nobody else ever can. Not even Max and Isobel, who share a connection with him that is from beyond this world. Even they can't reach him when despair sets in.

Michael wishes he knew what it was to set off these moods, so he could thwart them before they ever took hold. But he can't, can never tell when the colour will feel like it is draining from the world. All he can do is hold on, ride it out, know that he'll feel better in a few hours, somehow. Thankfully, he just taught his last class of the day, so the tension headache he has from trying to explain the principles of physics to students who were more concerned with trying to keep cool in the hot, stuffy lecture room might finally release its grip on him. He doesn't blame them for their lack of interest, though, at all, the weather far too _much_ to be able to do anything in. Any thoughts of paperwork he'd planned on doing while waiting for Alex to finish _his_ last lecture are abandoned; both for his mood, _and_ the heat.

With a glance around his room Michael tidies up the few papers that have been left behind, filling the trash can with empty bottles and cans and cursing under his breath at students who don't know the importance of recycling. He gives the room one final glance over before stepping out into the hall, never failing to feel a sense of pride for his work now matter how many things attempt to thwart his teaching, like this unrelenting heat.

This university has, in a way, been a home to Michael for most of his adult life. He is familiar with its halls, rooms, and layout like he has lived within its very walls. Which he has, at times. The relief of arriving at UNM on full scholarship knowing all he had to do was work hard and everything else would be taken care of took the biggest weight off his shoulders all those years ago. Having Alex by his side as they found their rooms, signed up to classes, and joined in all kinds of Freshers events was the icing on the cake. They _both_ got out of the lives that had felt inescapable when they were kids.

This university has been home, and sanctuary for Alex as well. Both of them have worked through degrees, Masters, and PhDs to become the youngest professors on this campus. That they got married along the way and are very definitely _that_ couple that half the faculties roll their eyes at for being so in love only makes Michael want to be more obnoxious. The thought makes him smile as he passes the cafeteria where he must have kissed Alex a thousand times, both as a student, _and_ as a member of staff.

He can hear Alex's voice drifting out from the open door of his computer lab, sure all the windows must be open in there just to get a little air. He pauses to the side of the doorway, listening to Alex explaining an upcoming test that half the students groan for, and then makes his presence known.

Alex pauses between words when he walks in, his face splitting into a smile. "Mr. Guerin."

Michael tips an imaginary cowboy hat since his in their truck in the parking lot. "Other Mr. Guerin."

The classroom responds with its usual mixture of titters and groans, their students far too used to their antics to have any other kind of reaction. It's fun sometimes, with new students, who don't know they are two separate people, turning up for advice and guidance in the wrong rooms—and faculties. The university would have preferred Alex to keep his name at least for work purposes, but the moment they'd married, Alex had abandoned anything to do with the surname _Manes_. Which Michael _loves_, and will never not get a kick out of calling Alex his husband at every opportunity he gets.

"Your man's evil," a student Michael thinks is called Rodney hisses when Michael sinks into the only free seat in the room beside him.

"Why?"

"Making us study when it's hot like this."

"I think it's your dedication to your education and grades that is making you work when it's _hot like this_," Alex retorts from across the room, not missing a thing.

"Air conditioning not working again?" Michael asks, pulling at his shirt collar to get some reprieve.

"I think it worked its allotted five days this month."

Were he in a lighter mood, and not so damn hot, Michael might even look at the air conditioning coming in to the room. But as it is, there is only about another half hour of the lecture to go, and now that he's sat, Michael doesn't want to go anywhere.

When the classroom empties a little later, Alex walks around the desks to him and tilts Michael's chin with his finger and thumb, frowning. "Bad day?"

Michael shrugs. Alex doesn't need to hear the words. Michael doesn't _have_ the words, anyway.

"Okay," Alex says, bending down to kiss him. "We can be out of here in... fifteen?"

Michael groans as he gets to his feet, everything in him aching with how heavy he feels. Together they clear Alex's classroom in silence, stopping by their respective teacher's lounges for messages and mail. Alex drove them today so heads for the driver's side of the truck once they're outside, watching Michael as he climbs in. He takes Michael's hand the moment they set off, kissing the back of it and resting it against his thigh. Neither of them say a word. This is part of the routine of these _moods_, both of them knowing exactly what the other needs when dark clouds decide to descend.

Alex fills up with gas, and Michael settles more comfortably in his seat for it, knowing they'll be driving for a while. The views are familiar, these roads ones they've explored to the point of passing them almost on autopilot. Michael appreciates it anyway, the wind whipping against his face as they drive, Alex's hand in his, the radio on low just for a little background noise. It's perfect, in every way, even if his mood is not yet lifting. Even when they pull into a familiar spot and climb out looking over a dusty horizon that so often helps him calm.

It isn't enough today. Alex, of course, knows what to do. They climb into the back of the truck after spreading out the blankets they keep here just for this purpose, and he cradles Michael to his chest in silence. Snatches of both new and long-forgotten problems drift up to Michael immediately, revealing themselves as sources of his mood. Worrying about three students who are going to fail, no matter how hard they are trying. A foster parent back when Michael was just eight whose bruising knuckles Michael still feels sometimes. The cramping hunger and cold he felt as a teen before Sanders gave him a little work and the Airstream to sleep in—that he and Alex have far happier memories in these days because of all the road trips they take in it.

Michael has no idea why these thoughts have chosen to surface now, but as Alex holds him, and loves him in comforting silence, the stranglehold they have on his heart starts to lessen.

"Crashdown. Fries and shakes. And then we finish off that fudge cake Isobel brought over yesterday. Deal?" Alex says when they're back on the road, the sky turns to dusk, and the landmarks tell Michael they are heading home.

"Perfect."

"I love you," Alex adds, smiling without turning his head.

Something else in Michael begins to shift, the beginning of a lightening of his mood. He leans, smiles against Alex's shoulder before bumping his forehead there. "Alex. I love you too. Always."

"I know you do."

"Best thing that ever happened to me."

"Likewise," Alex replies. He gives Michael a look then that says he'll show him just how much when they get home. Michael winks back at him for it, relaxing enough to sprawl out in his seat, let his head fall to Alex's shoulder at an awkward angle.

Arturo makes a fuss of them both when they arrive in the Crashdown, talking far too fast about Liz and Max and date night and something about a restaurant in an expensive part of town.

"There's an expensive part of _Roswell_?" Alex mutters half under his breath as he and Michael slide either side of their usual booth.

"Beats me. We live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere; what would we know?"

Their cabin, a surprise gift from Jim Valenti in his will, is the reason they are in Roswell at all. They talked about leaving, of starting their lives over elsewhere. Michael is glad beyond belief that didn't happen, for the friends and family they now have here. Their life is good, and peaceful, and everything he'd never even known he could have when growing up. Even when he is in moods like this one, when the world just feels a little too much. Even then Michael knows just how _good_ his life turned out.

After way too many fries, lots of reminiscing of happy memories here in the Crashdown, and Michael pushing the remainder of his milkshake to Alex for not being able to finish, that weight across his shoulders has lifted even more. Alex does that to him, without saying a word, without having to do anything but _be_ with Michael. Michael can't resist leaning across the booth and kissing him, feeling Alex smile against his mouth.

"I have something to show you when we get home," Alex says after he's curled his fingers through the back of Michael's hair to keep him close, ignoring Arturo _commenting_ when he passes.

"_Please_ tell me it involves a lack of clothing."

"That too," Alex says with a flicker of a smile. "Though, something else."

"Something good?"

"Something... nostalgic."

Michael is intrigued for the smile Alex gives him, nodding when Alex gestures for them to leave. Arturo of course piles them up with food to take with them; Michael thinks Isobel's fudge cake might just have to wait until tomorrow.

"So, what's this thing you were gonna show me?" Michael asks when they are home, stripped down to nothing but pairs of shorts and lounging across the couch, both of them still far too warm.

Alex grunts as he moves to retrieve the backpack he uses for work from beside the coffee table. "Did you know that Keith is retiring?"

"Keith... math faculty Keith?"

"Yes."

Keith is one of the professors at UNM that were teaching back when Michael and Alex first attended. Though unlike the others who just feel like their older, more established colleagues these days, Keith seems far more stately, regal almost. He has been confidantes for both Michael and Alex as they have progressed through their careers, never failing to have time for them when they've had questions. It is an end of an era if he is retiring now. Michael has no idea who else in the math faculty could possibly fill his shoes.

"Be weird without him," Michael says, sitting up when Alex gestures for him to. He is almost feeling back to normal now, a little sadness still lingering though no longer accompanied by that sense of empty despair.

"It will. He gave me this today. I don't even know why, or how he had it. But I'm glad that he did."

It is a picture of _them_. Aged about eighteen, obvious to the camera as they kiss, Alex's black nail polish and earring standing out most for Michael as he looks. Of course he has his hand on Alex's ass; when has he ever been able to resist touching him? Having photographic evidence of that fact just makes him smile.

_He_ is wearing what used to be a favorite hoodie that is probably still in the back of a closet somewhere; some space-themed colored thing that he'd found in a thrift store. and found hilarious at the time. They look _happy_, and _hopeful_, relieved to be away from the world they'd grown up in and just learning to _be_. Michael doesn't know who he would be without Alex and without Alex's love. He hopes he gives him the same sense of purpose and stability. He _knows_ that he does; it is only on days like this one when, out of nowhere, he forgets.

"We could paint your nails," Michael says as he slots his fingers through Alex's, kissing him on the cheek before mouthing over his earlobe where that earring used to sit. He feels _whole_ again. How could Michael not? When he is presented with evidence of all that they have, and how far he and Alex have come over the years?

"We could get a _dog_," Alex replies, which is a tangent that leaves Michael laughing hard for the subject change. Alex has been hinting about a dog for weeks. Michael's only objection is that he doesn't want to leave them alone at home all day. Though this is _them_; haven't they always figured everything out? Even the most complicated of things?

"We _should_ get a dog," he agrees, clutching hold of the picture of them as Alex crawls into his lap, with a look that says he either intends to persuade him about this dog, or _have_ him, right here on the couch. Which Michael has _no_ objection to at all.

Alex grins at him, huffing in disbelief. "Easy as that?"

"Easy as that," Michael agrees, biting his lip as he runs his hand down Alex's thigh, before lightly gripping his waist so he can lean forward to put the picture on the table where it won't crease.

"And here I was thinking of all kinds of things I'd be willing to do to persuade you," Alex says, stirring his hips as he crosses his arms behind Michael's head.

"Oh, no, please; don't let me stop you. _Persuade_ me, Alex."

They agree on a rescue dog, some old puppy in need of a loving home. And after all the efforts of Alex's persuasion, fall asleep draped over one another on the couch. Michael's heart is light again. And in the warmth of Alex's arms, how can he feel anything but whole?

  


[art by Liesel](https://lieselfh-art.tumblr.com/)


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